


One Nice Thing

by OneofaKind33



Category: The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: Body-Scrub, F/M, Fluff, Team as Family, The Team - Freeform, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 22:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13773663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofaKind33/pseuds/OneofaKind33
Summary: Everyone knows that servicemen and women on deployment give up a lot of things in their lives. But, sometimes, it’s the little luxuries that they can hold onto that matter the most.The Team as they should be, happy and whole (mostly). Team as Family, Jalton if you squint really hard.Cross Posted on Fanfiction.net





	One Nice Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Just let Jaz have some nice things. And remember that proper skin care is universal. Special Ops Team 7 is not afraid to take full advantage of good skin care products.  
> Just some fun team fluff for my heroes. The incredible dynamic between this team that they were able to capture in the show is one of the many, many reasons I love it. I need a season 2.  
> Its skips around a bit in time. I wanted a well entrenched tradition. And the end got a little angstier than I imagined but I regret nothing. Enjoy!  
> Warning for language.
> 
> Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the Brave because if I did there would be MORE THAN 13 EPISODES (I'm fine *Takes Deep Breath* Its fine)

Jaz was not one for excessive creature comforts but there were a few things she hoarded while on deployment. Simple things like face cleanser and good conditioner; her expensive face sunscreen that was entirely worth it when she was perched on top of a building in direct sunlight for hours at a time. These were things that she kept in her shower kit and hauled with her in and out of the bathroom. Things Jaz guarded with extreme prejudice and used so carefully that she never ran out.

One of these things was her body-scrub. It was the perfect exfoliator, and not cheap, and the lime scent made her relax almost immediately. It was her 10 minutes of Me Time while she showered. It was one of her few nice things.

The thing about the body-scrub is that’s it’s messy. The little tub was always sticky and the lid didn’t fit so it spilled over her other stuff. So, she started leaving it in the shower, and no one seemed to mind. It wasn’t until she was home after her first deployment with the team that she realized that she didn’t go through a tub a month on her own. Really, it lasted her almost three months. Which meant that one of her asshole teammates was using her stuff.

After the first month back on the ground in Turkey, Jaz cornered them all at breakfast, slamming the empty body-scrub tub on the table. All of them froze.

 Jaz tapped her finger against the table. Elijah wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Does anyone know how long it takes me to go through one of these things by myself?”

“A month?” suggested McG, picking at his cuticles. Dalton blinked at her innocently.

Preach was shaking his head, clearly amused. He wasn’t dumb enough to touch Jaz’s stuff; he’d seen how a battle over a bottle of special lotion had made his oldest daughters ignore each other for 5 hours before his wife told them to suck it up and confiscated it for herself (“It’s nice lotion, Ezekiel.”).

“Three,” corrected Jaz, “So I want to know which of you assholes is using my shit.” Her laser-focus glare swept over each of them in turn. 

Elijah squirmed. 

McG refused to look up from the table.

Preach held his hands out, innocent.

Dalton’s lips pressed into a thin line of regret.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jaz raised an expressive eyebrow delicately. Her finger traced a path that skipped over Preach. “All of you?”

“It smells nice,” Elijah mumbled into his coffee. His hair was still wet from the shower. He’d wondered where the body-scrub had gone, normally it helped wake him up.

“The desert hates me, Jazzy, I get all scaly without it!” Defended McG, eyes pleading and arm gesticulating.

Jaz rolled her eyes and scoffed before staring straight into Dalton’s soul. “Top?”

Dalton sucked air in through his teeth and scratched at his cheek. “It keeps my beard from itching.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Jaz glared at them all. “You all owe me so much money. I ran out with two months left in deployment last time! This is why I can’t have nice things!”

She spun on her heel, throwing the empty tub in the direction of the garbage can and, somehow, making the shot. Her braid snapped angrily as she stalked to her room.

Preach chuckled to himself. “I’d pay up, boys. She’s right; that’s her one nice thing.”

“It’s smells so nice,” Elijah grumbled again. He’d made forty bucks off Preach the night before, he’d pay up. But there was not a chance he was never going to use that damn body-scrub. Jaz was his best friend— she’d learn to share.

* * *

They paid up.

Jaz was glad she’d bought extra containers.

These assholes.

* * *

McG walked timidly from the bathroom, one hand securing his towel around his waist, the other delicately holding an empty tub of body scrub.

“Please, no. Don’t say it.” Elijah pointed accusingly at McG with the knife he’d been using to butter a bagel.

Tell me this isn’t the last one?” McG’s face was pleading.

“You finished it?” Dalton kicked his boots off the table, setting aside the newspaper. His eyes crinkled in distress.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“We’re all dead,” corrected Elijah. Jaz may be his best friend, but he was dead terrified of her.

“Fuck.” McG set the tub on the table. “You think if I wear just the towel around all day, she won’t kick my ass?”

“The embarrassment will be an added bonus for her. Put some fucking pants on, McGuire.” Dalton was reaching for computer. “I have to talk to the Deputy Director about the next supply drop anyway, I’ll ask for a favour.”

* * *

Patricia blinked at him through the screen. Dalton was really glad this was a private conversation. He didn’t doubt that a room full of analysts would be in stitches about one of their highly dangerous, highly specialized teams requesting body-scrub.

“You’re serious?”

“It’s Jaz’s one nice thing, and we ruined it,” begged Dalton.

Patricia’s eyes were understanding but her mouth had a regretful tilt to it. “Adam, your team is already scheduled to go over budget by the end of your deployment. And I’ve already argued for more wiggle room in Sergeant Khan’s budget.”

“It’s not her fault heels aren’t made for running up ten flights of stairs after a suspect,” defended Dalton. He was already trying to find more reasons why they needed this one particular frivolity.

“Which is exactly the argument I used and why I won,” Patricia said smugly, “But I’m sorry, Adam, this won’t fly.”

Dalton groaned. “Don’t be surprised if tomorrow you don’t have a Team 7. It’ll just be Jaz and Preach—  I’m sure they can handle whatever you need.”

“Adam-” Patricia warned, trying not to smile.

“I know. We’ll get creative.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Sounds right up your alley,” she shook her head. “Forward the paperwork tomorrow. The next shipment should be in a week. And-” she paused.

Adam say back in his chair, waiting for the punchline. A devious grin flirted across Patricia’s face.

“-Godspeed, Captain.”

Dalton huffed a laugh as the call disconnected.

Creative. He could do creative. Creative was his job description.

* * *

“We’re fucked,” McG said, gesturing at Elijah with his beer bottle. Jaz hadn’t showered yet, so she hadn’t noticed the distinct lack of in-shower products.

Elijah groaned. “You better pack extra bandages. Next time she’s on Overwatch she might just miss a guy or two.”

Dalton clicked his pen frustratedly. It turns out getting creative about an exit strategy from a Taliban deathtrap was easier than figuring out how to replace body-scrub.

Preach, on the phone with his wife, chuckled at their misfortune.

“Something funny, Zeke?” It certainly wasn’t what she grumbled about the rotting tomato at the back of the fridge as she cleaned it.

“I told you about the body-scrub, yeah?” At Preach’s words, both McG and Elijah groaned dramatically (They hadn’t had a mission in almost 2 weeks. Everyone was a little over dramatic and pent up).

“You mean those dumb boys using Jaz’s nice stuff?” she prompted.

“Mhm. They used the last of it and none of these Army bitches are brave enough to tell her about it.” Preach used the usual rib, hoping to get a rise out of them.

“Oh ho, big talk from the Navy SEAL,” mocked McG, but the usual playfulness was lacking.

“And I’m guessing you can’t get more?” She hardly waited for confirmation before barreling forward, “Why don’t they just make their own? Plenty of DIY tutorials online. The girls and I make face masks all the time.”

It was like a goddam switch had been flipped.

“Have I ever told you that your problem solving skills are the reason I married you?” Preach said, voice softening.

She laughed. “And here I was thinking it was my cosmic beauty and killer conversation skills. Go fix your team’s problem, Super SEAL. I need to have a serious chat with our daughters about the amount of half empty yogurt containers in the back of the fridge.”

Preach hung up and prepared to avert Mutually Assured Destruction.

* * *

Elijah and McG both made Pinterest accounts and got sucked down a DIY rabbit hole, but they emerged victorious and armed with a recipe for body scrub almost identical to the product description on the website. It wasn’t perfect but they were hoping it was good enough.

* * *

Jaz hadn’t been happy when they told her they’d used up all of her nice body scrub. She’d been snippy and bitter and a little disappointed that they’d been that careless with her stuff. But from the looks on their faces you’d think they’d expected her to come after them with her boxing gloves. Or her Ka-Bar.

She was coming back from the shooting range when she found all of them sitting around the table looking weirdly pleased with themselves. In the center of the table was a cardboard file box with the obnoxious pink bow that Elijah reused on all her presents.

“What the hell is wrong with all of you?” she asked. Just because it was her birthday didn’t mean they had to act all... she didn’t know what they were acting like.

“Awe, Jazzy, can’t your teammates wish you a happy birthday?” McG pouted. A grin threatened to take over his face.

“We had cake for breakfast, and you’ve been badly hiding a bottle of Kraken in the cupboard for a month, McG. We have celebrated my birthday.” She answered, eyes drawn to the stupid bow. Jaz didn’t have anything against pink, but that was the worst shade of pink.

“I told you to hide it in your footlocker,” Elijah knocked McG with his elbow. “We should be glad she didn’t drink it without us.”

“Who says I haven’t?” Jaz smirked.

“Open the fucking present, Jasmine,” Elijah rolled his eyes and smiled sweetly, patting the seat right in front for the box. Jaz rolled her eyes right back, but humoured him.

She ignored the bow and slid the lid off the box. Her expression shifted to one of confused amusement. “Thanks guys. I’ve always wanted a big-ass container of rock salt and coconut oil.” Her hands rested on the side of the box.

"Look closer, smart ass,” Dalton retorted over McG’s laughter.

Jaz’s smirk grew, but she obliged. A black plastic container was nestled in the middle. She pulled it out, eyes catching on the words carefully printed in white sharpie. Her throat caught.

“You assholes made me body-scrub?”

The team’s smiles were megawatt.

“Correction,” Elijah said, setting a hand on her shoulder, “we made us _all_ body-scrub. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.”

Jaz swatted at his head, connecting with the top of it.

“Happy Birthday, Jazzycat!” McG grinned at her, using that ridiculous nickname.

 Jaz tried to push down the wave of affection for her team.

They cared. And they listened. They’d screwed up but they’d fixed it. They’d gotten her back her one nice thing. It was a small present but it was one of the best she’d ever gotten.

* * *

Amir never touched the body scrub left sitting in the corner of the shower. The light, tangy scent and minimalist packaging clearly indicated it was Jaz’s property and Amir was not going to intrude on that. It was doubtful that the sniper would warm up to him anymore if she caught him using her nice stuff.

It wasn’t until he found the big-ass jar of coconut oil and rock salt and lime extract oil that he realized something more was going on.

“McG? What is this?” He pointed to the back of the cupboard. McG barely glanced up from the iPad before shrugging.

“Body-scrub ingredients. If you use the last of it, you have to make more. Recipe is on the back of the salt.”

Amir’s face scrunched in confusion. “Jaz’s body scrub?”

McG started laughing. “Nah, man, that’s the whole team’s property. We had to start making our own when Jaz got pissed that we used up all her store-bought shit and we couldn’t include it under ‘Necessities’ in the budget.”

“Huh.” Amir blinked. “Exfoliation is important, I guess?”

McG gestured to his arms. “I get scaly.” He smiled ruefully, “And it smells nice.”

Amir nodded. He wondered if he was just really out of practice at being part of a team or if this one was just... something.

* * *

Two days after Paris, Dalton caught Amir mixing together the recipe for more body-scrub. He grinned knowingly. “I knew it was running out too fast for just four people.”

Amir looked up, guilt flashing across his face. “Top-”

“How many drops of lime oil did you add?” Dalton interrupted him.

“Five like the instructions say,” Amir checked the paper that had been duct-taped to the side of the jar.

Dalton grimaced. “McG wrote it down. He likes five drops. Everyone else thinks that smells weak as hell.”

Amir started mixing again, trying to evenly distribute the salt through the coconut oil. It was just like mixing lumps out of crepe batter, but much thicker. “Any suggestions?”

“I usually do seven. Preach does ten, which is way too much. I pretty sure Jaz just dumps it in without looking.”

Amir carefully added 2 more drops.  “How long have you been doing this?” he asked, gesturing with the spoon. They even had a bowl and mixing spoon specifically set aside for it. Amir didn’t know how they’d talked the Quarter Master into giving them extras. Or, knowing this team, what story they’d fed him.

“Two years give or take. We made it almost a whole year before Jaz figured out we all were using her nice stuff and made us pay her back,” Dalton scratched at his neck, eyes alight humour. “Then we ran out and that brand doesn’t ship overseas, so we got creative.”

“Very creative,” Amir nodded slowly. He’d been right with his initial assumption— this team was just... something. And he was beginning to think that he’d do anything for them.

Dalton drifted to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He used the edge of the counter to crack the cap off and sat on the couch with his iPad, scrolling through football highlights. To anyone else he’d seem like he wasn’t paying attention.

Amir kept stirring, eventually leaning down to sniff at the concoction. It still smelled weak. He eyed the bottle, added one drop, mixed, and added another. He nodded assuredly to himself before scraping it out of the bowl and into the plastic container.

From the couch, Dalton smirked.

Nine drops. The same number that Elijah had made it with.

* * *

Jaz inhaled deeply as she scooped a handful of the body scrub out of the tub. The scent drifted around her and she smiled automatically at the sense of peace it created. Nine drops.

Her heart stopped and grief clawed its way up her throat. She leaned her forehead against the tile of the shower wall. The scrub started to dissolve in her hand.

That was the thing about grief- sometimes it struck you like a freight train for some half-assed reason. Like fucking body-scrub.

She breathed one ragged breath and the scent that always calmed her did just that. Nine drops.

Elijah had always made it with nine drops. It was his favorite number, his football number, the number of times he checked his ammo before a mission. His weird thing with the number nine had led to the best version of the homemade scrub so she hadn’t complained. She’d teased, but she hadn’t complained.

Amir had to be the one who made it. Everyone else had set amounts. She usually tried for eight, but Jaz liked to add the drops as she went, trying to mix the scent in better, and usually lost count around five. McG had tried to make it with nine drops the first time they’d refilled the scrub after Elijah had died. Jaz had dumped it in the garbage and made a new batch with significantly less.

Like she said, grief came in strange ways.

The steam thickened around her and Jaz knew she had to hurry before the hot water cut out. The sweet acidity of limes was everywhere but this time it was comforting. A piece of her best friend.

Nine Drops.

Jaz smiled and scrubbed at her arms. Maybe, for once, she could have one nice thing.

**Author's Note:**

> I spent too much time on the Lush app, I guess, and inspiration hit.  
> I need to know more about Elijah, guys. I just need to.  
> "Jazzycat" is my personal headcannon as a nickname for our poor girl from McG. It just rolls off the tongue. And she moves like a cat and is picky about people.  
> Also, I never really said it, but once they start making their own, you know Preach gets in on that too. And shares the recipe with his girls,  
> I hate myself guys, I have so many fics but IM SO OBESSED with this show. I literally wrote and edited this today in the last 4 hours, so I apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> “This is why we can’t have nice things” is one of the most iconic lines in any situation.


End file.
